Hope
by Lilysdementor
Summary: Oneshot. Amidst old tombstones, one man is trying to come to terms with the past. Post HBP.


Title: Hope

Author: Jane Delight

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise does not belong to me.

Summary: One-shot. Amidst old tombstones, one man is trying to come to terms with the past. Post HBP.

**Hope**

Had someone been standing on the tallest of Hogwart's towers, heavy raindrops falling all around, that person, and that person alone, would have had the privilege to witness the event about to unfold in a usually deserted part of Hogwarts – the graveyard.

However, Hogwart's tallest tower was empty. No one had had the urge to stand there in the middle of the storm that was brewing together, especially not at this time of night.

Hogwart's graveyard had been opened to the students after the death of Albus Dumbeldore. Before, only the headmaster had had access to it, out of fear some students might get overly depressed by its presence – Hogwarts was a school, after all.

Now, however, Minerva McGonagall had declared it open to all, as the body of the late headmaster rested there.

She knew the students would want to grieve and hoped that if they could access his grave, they would find some kind of peace, which was eluding her.

Minerva hadn't counted on this visitor, though. In fact, many, if not all, would agree that if she had known of his visit, she'd be lurking in a dark corner, hidden by foliage, waiting for her moment of revenge.

The visitor now standing at the entrance of the ancient graveyard wore only black and his features too were shrouded in darkness due to his hood.

He knew it was dangerous to be there, lethal even, should anyone find out, but he knew that he would not have a peaceful moment until he did what he was about to do. Not that he had had many of those before…

The rain annoyed him, yet soothed him at the same time. It seemed to fit his mood perfectly, which was why it annoyed him. He wasn't used to being understood. The only person who had ever come close to being able to recognise his motivations was lying here in the graveyard, sealed below the soggy ground.

He moved forward through the gate and found himself on a gravel path, headstones scattered rather randomly around it, trees and bushes around the outer edge, flowers donning a few graves.

Looking around, he soon found the grave he wished to see. It had by far the largest amount of flowers on it, and was also the most recent.

Walking towards it, he once again reflected on how he got himself into this situation. Being one if the most wanted men in Great Britain was not something he was proud of.

He blamed Albus for getting him into this situation. He had always blamed Albus for everything that had gone wrong in his life. It was a hard habit to break now that the old man was no longer there to blame.

But this time, it truly was the late headmaster's fault. It had been him who had come up with the insane plan. Who would be crazy enough to sacrifice their life only so that one spy would be more trusted amongst the enemy? Albus Dumbeldore, that's who.

Then again, if he hadn't made that Unbreakable Vow… but he'd had no other choice. Had he refused, he would have been dead immediately.

Was his life worth more than that of Albus?

No. Not by a long shot. Albus had been a great, powerful and kind man. And he? He was an evil, traitorous bastard, who loved terrorizing other people. Sometimes, when his moment of self-loathing peaked, he would add cowardly to that list, and likened himself to that rat Pettigrew.

Shaking his head, the visitor moved to stand in front of the headstone.

_RIP  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbeldore  
Our Light_

Somehow, it didn't do him justice.

He was a murderer. He had blood on his hands. Blood of the only person he'd ever truly trusted.

He was an idiot. He should've stood up to Albus, stopped him from going through with his insane plan. He should've told the Potter boy what was going on, as much as he loathed the brat. He should've stopped Draco, stopped him being influenced by his father, by the Dark. He should've cared more for him.

He wished he had a time turner. Never before as much as now. But he didn't, and even if he did, he still wouldn't use it. It was too dangerous, messing with the past. Things could be even worse. He could've been discovered as a spy even though he… killed Albus. Then the Light Side would have only the Potter Boy to do some real damage against the Dark.

Not that anyone knew of his plight. There really wasn't much he could do, in his opinion, except to try and gather as much information as possible and convince Draco to turn to the Light for help.

That was the only way he could be saved from being killed by either side, really. The Light was after his blood for murdering Albus, and the Dark wouldn't hesitate to get rid of him, should they discover he wasn't as loyal as he seemed.

Draco could put in a good word for him. That is, if they ever trusted Draco, which he doubted. In other words, he was going to die sooner or later. The only reason he hadn't killed himself, was because Albus had insisted that good would come from his position on the Dark Side.

Perhaps if the Potter Brat were to get captured he could free him, and get killed in the process, or afterwards. He didn't think the Light would accept him back even though he saved their little Saviour and if he were to pull such a stunt the Dark would undoubtedly want to kill him. He wouldn't even be able to use his customary excuse of: "It'll make Dumbeldore trust me more" to get him out of it.

He was thoroughly soaked by now. Mud covered his boots and the bottom of his cloak. He kneeled down next to the headstone and his hand reached into an inside pocket of his cloak. When it reappeared, a small silver phoenix pendant was free to glint in the sparse light.

With his pale, bare hands, the man began to dig a small hole on top of the grave. His long fingers pressed the silver phoenix against his thin lips one last time, before he carefully placed it into the hole, and covered it with earth.

He then sighed and allowed his hands to reach out and touch the headstone, before he stood up once more.

Maybe the Light would one day find his pendant, and realise their error. Maybe they would not. But somehow he felt lighter, now that he had hidden it in a safe place, away from the Dark. The Dark that he was struggling against every day.

Looking at the slightly battered flowers on the headmaster's grave, he realised that there was no point in giving up now. He had come this far, had obeyed Albus' wishes; he might as well continue doing so now.

What did he have to lose?

With a final glance at the grave and a whispered "Goodbye, Albus", the man turned around and disappeared into the dark.


End file.
